


The Bird Woman

by Hestia01



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, mary poppins - Fandom
Genre: Archangels get comeuppance, Friendship, Gen, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), God is taking a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27273028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hestia01/pseuds/Hestia01
Summary: After their spat over Holy Water, Aziraphale and Crowley go their separate ways for a long time. In the meantime, they each befriend the mysterious bird woman who sits on the steps of St Paul’s Cathedral in London. Little do they realize that she is more than she seems
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	The Bird Woman

London, 1900

A ragged woman sat on the steps of St Paul’s cathedral, in direct contrast to the posh folk who passed her by with noses in the air. Her mouth was a firm line as she regarded these hypocrites. They, who by pure luck, were born to all the wealth and opportunities this world had to offer. Yes, at times She regretted her own ineffability. It’s been said that God is dead. That isn’t exactly true: She’s only partially retired.

Then, a human-shaped creature in a beige suit scurried by, pausing to cast an admiring eye over the large flock of pigeons that accompany the old woman on the steps. _I know you_ , she thinks with a grin, _Principality Aziraphale._

“Feed the birds, tuppence a bag,” she called to him.

He came to her call like a well-trained collie. He beamed cheerfully at her and gave her a gold sovereign. “Bless you, my dear,” he intoned musically. She handed him a bag and he tipped his hat to her.

Later that day, She detected the demonic whiff of sulfur, and recognized Crowley approaching her. She smiled as he imitated the birds’ talk and praised them for shitting on statues.

“Feed the birds, tuppence a bag,” she called to him. Again, coins far heavier than copper clinked into her palm and he actually shook her hand.

“With pleasure. I adore these wonderful ragamuffins. My lady,” he bowed as he took his parcel.

Every day without fail, these two would visit her. As their familiarity grew, they would stay and chat with her. One cold November day, Aziraphale brought her a thick woolen tartan shawl, which he’d miracled to keep out the wind and rain. Crowley blew Hellfire on her steps to stay nice and warm. She accepted no other assistance, despite their attempts to do more. Angel and demon never came together, either, which She found odd. Whenever these two existed in the same place at the same time, they always seemed to find each other.

During their visits, She took to teaching Aziraphale magic tricks involving the flock of pigeons. He never got to be all that good, but it was fun to watch him try. Imagine, an angel with real power messing around with pretend magic! And he was so earnest about it, too! It was too precious. She rewarded his attempts with a few birds of his own to train, in hopes of continuing his act. Every bird he used from then on in his magic acts was a descendant of one of these birds.

Still, their patronage continued over the years. On the day of the end of the War to End All Wars (if only) Crowley forsook the ticker tape parades and parties to find her.

“Look, you and I both know you’re...well, getting on in years. I’ve got a secret for you. I’m...not actually human. I’m not crazy, it’s true. I’m a demon.”

“I thought so, my son,” she replied, patting his cheek with her soft hand, clutching his hand with her other one in a tight grip. “The eyes are a dead giveaway. I think they’re lovely, though. Never be ashamed of what you are, dearie.”

“Uh... you and I have been sort of friends for a while and...I can’t do much, but I’d much rather you end up with my lot than with them,” Crowley shot the gray cloudy sky a derisive look. “You’re a good one, you know. Not many humans here like are like you. You’re all right. So, I made a case for you down Below. Told them you’re swindling the townsfolk and perpetuating the spread of vermin.” They laughed comfortably over that description. “I’ll take care of you. Might not be great, but better than being stuck with a load of prats forever, right?”

The Bird Woman smiled to herself as She considered Her First Born. Yes, they were notably lacking in the personality department. She’d often worried about Gabriel in particular. As much of a loss as it was to have Her children Fall, She could understand why they did. She hoped that they were happier with their lot. It seemed that Crowley at least was a far better demon than he was an angel. He took his job and gave it the best he had. Admirable, really! It was nice to see him enjoy himself, sowing petty discontent. Other more small-minded demons preferred to do things the old way, one soul at a time, but Crowley had a rare spark of imagination which led him to play a long game and secure numerous souls at once!

Sure enough, about an hour after Crowley left, Aziraphale arrived at her steps, bedecked in Union Jack regalia, having celebrated with the humans for most of the day. “Oh! There you are my dear lady! Ohh!” He groaned as he sat down next to Her and unwrapped a linen napkin in Her lap, revealing a slice of cake, some bread, cheese, cured meat and fruit. “I know you keep saying you don’t take charity, but here, it’s a party. That whole awful war is over. Maybe they’ll all settle down for a bit now, hmm? Wouldn’t that be nice? Now if that pestilential sickness could leave off. I’m so glad you’ve avoided it. I have worried about you, you know.” He offered her a flask of wine as well. She accepted his gifts of cheer with a welcoming smile.

“Oh, I’m tougher than I look, dear heart. But thank you. Clean living, you know, and this lovely wrap you gave me helps.”

“Oh, pfft! It’s the least I can do.” Aziraphale brushed aside the praise. He was capable of doing much more. “I used to feed the ducks in the park...with my friend. I haven’t done that in...oh, about forty years now.” His eyes and voice became sad and withdrawn, touching on a difficult memory.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the Bird Woman said, touching the angel’s coat sleeve.

“Oh, he’s not dead, I don’t think. We, um...we fought. He wanted me to get him something rather dangerous, and I couldn’t bear the thought of harm coming to him. Or trouble. I haven’t seen him in a long time.” Aziraphale chuckled humorlessly, “I even avoid the park. It’s where we’d always meet. So, that’s what got me feeding the birds here with you. And I’m glad to have made a new friend.”  
Then, he, too, suggested that he’d been petitioning for her soul. Again, She chuckled kindly and thanked him politely, but seemed unconcerned about what should happen to her After. It almost gave the appearance that these two of Her children were fighting over who would get to keep Her!

Years pass. Crowley gave Aziraphale a ride home in his Bentley for the first time as they escaped a bombed-out church. They spoke carefully of their time apart, both seemed glad to see each other again, but then the topic turned to something more personal.

“You know, Crowley, a while after our...quarrel, I made friends with this old woman at St Paul’s cathedral. I saw her every day for, oh, twenty years or so. Then one day she was gone.”

“You knew the Bird Woman, too?”

They turned to each other and shared a smile. Of course they would have both been drawn to her. The kindly old lady who beseeched others to care for something smaller and more helpless than themselves.

“Yes. What...whatever became of her? She never, ah, arrived. I don’t report in all that often, so it might have escaped me, but...”

Crowley looked somber, worried. “My lot didn’t get her, either. I even made a case for why we ought to. I’d hoped...” he trailed off with a sigh. “Maybe she stayed behind as a ghost.”

“Can’t imagine she’d have unfinished business. But then, humans are always full of surprises. I do miss her, though.”

Eighty years later

It was a night of celebration; an angel and a demon were spotted together at the Ritz, toasting the world and each other. A ragged old lady clung to the shadows just outside the restaurant. The coo of pigeons echoed moodily in the night.

She’d seen bravery in Her time, most often it was motivated by love, and these two idiots had it in spades. Their chicanery in escaping their executions had been a nice touch, and ensured that either side would cease to trouble them. Yes, it could definitely be said that She was proud of Her children.

She sat on a concrete tree urn at the street corner and just watched. She thought of how they’d both stood up to Gabriel, Her old right-hand man. A disgusted sigh left Her. He’d disappointed Her so many times. Over a century ago, while She was in this old guise, he’d shoved her aside in the street and dumped her basket of breadcrumbs in a mud puddle. Her opinion of him and his cronies had plummeted after that. Perhaps now they were ready to be even more humbled after they failed to end the world. She smiled grimly as she considered their fate. They wouldn’t Fall, nothing that drastic. They wouldn’t fit in well with the demons, anyway. But something to sink the message in.

Speak of the devil—angel, rather, She thought, as She saw them skulking up the pavement. They were too afraid of Aziraphale and Crowley to do anything, but they stalked by the entrance to the Ritz with sneers on their faces. They knew that those two had been in cahoots with each other, and this was proof.

“Out of the way, you foul gargoyle,” Gabriel growled, shoving Her aside roughly as he pushed through. The others aggressively knocked shoulders with Her as well. That was it. Her eyes blazed and she threw off her disguise.

“Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon,” she intoned grimly, making the very atmosphere quiver in her wrath. “You disappoint me. I’ve been watching you for a long time, my First Born, and your conduct has fallen far short of what I’d hoped for you. Children, I never created you to be cruel. You delight, however, in being just as wicked as any demon could dream to be. Your behavior regarding the Apocalypse was the latest in many transgressions, and it seems to me you are all in need of a change in perspective. You look askance at Aziraphale and treat him as beneath you, while he and Crowley were the only ones to fight to save the world rather than win a stupid, bloody war. You assume you are superior to all, which is your undoing. Oh, my children, you make me sad.”

“Please! No! I’m sorry! I don’t want to Fall!” Gabriel begged, groveling on the ground. The others followed suit a second behind him.

“Falling would be kind for what you and your little gang has become. I’ve thought of something far more fitting.” Without any flash of light nor sound apart from the fluttering of wings, where Gabriel and his cohorts had been were nothing but four sad-looking pigeons. “See what it’s like to depend on others’ kindness for a while. I’ll let you back in after you’ve learned your lesson.”

Once the wayward angels had been dealt with, and She sent notice of their demotions up the thread, She cloaked Herself in Her disguise once again.

Aziraphale and Crowley were just leaving the restaurant, cozily arm in arm in blissful silence when they heard it! A familiar voice called out croakily:

“Feed the birds. Tuppence a bag.”

Both of them gasped and stared, approaching Her with cautious shyness. There stood their old friend, ninety years after they last saw her!

Once they reached her, she scattered some seeds to the four punished angels and invited Aziraphale and Crowley to do the same.

When She spoke again, all signs of age left her voice. “You must really love the Earth, to do all that you did to protect it.” Slowly, far less impressively than before, the one they knew as the Bird Woman transformed. She shone with a Heavenly glow, tall and motherly.

They both started again! They knew that voice! Crowley was the first to recover his own. “It’s the first place I’ve ever felt at home.“

“Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, would you say the same?”

“Uh, y-yes, Lord,” he stammered in embarrassment, guilty once more for lying about losing the flaming sword. “Earth is my home. It would be a pity to let any of your creation go to waste.”

The realization that they’d been so familiar with God all those years ago didn’t sit well with either being. They looked at each other, blushing as they remembered their pitifully small kindnesses they’d shown the Almighty, how ridiculous they felt now!

God, however, knew their thoughts and felt differently. “No kindness is pitiful or ridiculous. Sometimes small things can be very important. You were kind to me, and to my Creation. Those sorts of things do not go unrewarded. We’ve already taken care of your old superiors, Aziraphale. Your bookshop is restored. What else would you like?”

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at the small flock of miserable pigeons by their feet. They looked up and their eyes met in sudden understanding! “You’ve already given it to me,” he muttered shyly. “I was so worried about you—her—oh, blast it, you know. I’m just glad I got to see my old friend again.”

Crowley clapped both hands over his face and groaned in agony, “I can’t believe I offered you the nicest spot in Hell! That I said I wanted you there! At least Aziraphale thought he’d get you to the right place. Aarrrrg!”

“You offered the best you could contrive. I took it in the spirit in which it was given.”

“I feel so stupid,” Crowley groused.

“Maybe in the head, but never doubt your heart,” Aziraphale chided, pulling him into his arms.

God smiled pleasantly at the pair before extending Her hands. “I grant you a very long, happy life together. To make up for the 6000 years you had to pretend.”

“Oh! Oh, thank you!” Aziraphale spluttered, tongue-tied in his happiness. Crowley grunted out a few disjointed syllables of thanks as well.

She drew close to them both, slipped a paper bag in their hands. “And don’t forget to feed the birds.” And with that, she vanished.


End file.
